


Good Morning, Lois.

by SnufflesThePig



Category: Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Superman - Fandom
Genre: Best Friends, Bonding, Feel-good, Friendship, Lana Lang is a good friend, Male-Female Friendship, Memes, Minor Clark Kent/Lois Lane, Misunderstandings, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-26 21:49:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30112548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnufflesThePig/pseuds/SnufflesThePig
Summary: Clark’s best friend Lana drops in unannounced, and it’s a wonderful surprise. He’s just moved to Metropolis, and he can’t very well feel at home until she’s judged and approved of the place, can he?Unfortunately, he knows two(2) women who invite themselves in to his apartment at their leisure, and Lois was never one to knock.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	1. How to start the day

**Author's Note:**

> No, Lana and Clark are not dating in this. But best believe they tight as fuck

_Knock knock._  
A professional rap at the door. It was short in a way that sounded familiar, like it knew it would get an answer and wasn’t concerned with any other outcome. Who knocked on Clark’s door? At 6:34am, no less?

He lumbered over to the door and swung it open. Lana Lang, in the flesh. Her eyes slid off her phone and met his when the door opened. The phone disappeared and the smile lifted her cheeks as naturally as anything.

“Lana?” He wanted to laugh, maybe, but it just came out surprised, like he needed confirmation it really was his best friend.

“Clark?”, she echoed in a scarily good impression. Her head cocked to the side a bit and she made a fake confused face.

His features relaxed and he felt his own smile tug at his face, much as he tried to turn it into an unamused look. She brushed right on past him and through the door. Yes, that was Lana, alright. He shook his head and chuckled at the floor before he followed, closing the door.

Her red maned head bobbed this way and that as she took in his apartment. She spun a couple times and let her gaze fall back on him. He returned it.

“You’ve done just as well as I knew you would. It’s so light in here, I love it. Not much in the way of furniture, though.” She sent him a teasing glance. Honestly, it was a shit apartment, with shitter furniture. He moved around the kitchen counter.

“You want a drink?” Lana shook her head, and then her coffee.

“Still living off those, huh?”

“Is there any other way to live?”

He poured himself an orange juice and turned to face her, leaning his hands into the counter. It was so nice to see her. Having Lana in his apartment felt like blessing the place. Just seeing her russet curls bounce around with her wild exaggerated head motions was healing, and he wondered why on earth he hadn’t asked her over before. Oh, right, because she’d invite herself. And she had, without warning. He was extremely thankful. Dates and times were not things that came easily in a hectic craze like he was living and she had always been more on top of things than him. Lana made things happen. Things just sort of happened to Clark.

Lana propped her elbow on the back of the couch and rested her head on her hand, turning to look at him. The easy, playful smiles hadn’t left either of them, not that they usually did. They fed off of each other.

“So tell me.” He took a gulp of his orange juice and set it down, thinking.

“Well, it’s loud.”

“A city? Really?”

He ignored her. “Different smells and sounds. And everyone’s always in such a rush here. But you know that, miss hotshot reporter.” Lana rolled her eyes but rolled her hand for him to go on. “It’s not so bad. Pa was exaggerating.”

“He’s a farm man. You’re his farm boy,” she nodded. “That tracks. I’m glad you’re liking it, Clark. City life’s not for everyone.”

He was about as far from ‘city’ as a guy could possibly get, that was for sure. It was a rough transition.

“There are good parts about a city. And I can always go home.”

“That you can.” Her attention wandered around his apartment again. “Ever the sickening optimist.”

He watched her get up and inspect his table and the files strewn across it. She sent a look back at him and put her hands up before she turned away, a promise she wasn’t looking. They were both in the same business, and it wasn’t a soft one. He acknowledged her with an indulgent head tilt. She sauntered over to the right, around his secondhand couch toward the window. This apartment was a strategic move. The overhanging and the position of the place lent itself to being overlooked by the average passerby. Even the opposite balconies wouldn’t pay it much mind, not during most of the day when the shadows made it almost look like the building stopped before his tiny balcony. It made his comings and goings less of a concern, and with the shit he had to deal with, anything of less concern was a great victory.

Lana eyed it over, putting a hand to her chin and nodding to herself.

“You need a cat.”

Just when he thought he knew what she’d say. He shook his head at the floor again, mostly out of habit.

“I don’t need a cat. I’m not here enough anyway.”

“There were always cats, a dog, horses, cows, whatever. You’re a farm boy, for Christ’s sake. This apartment is in desperate need of a cat, Clark.”

She had a point. It had been the hardest part of moving. He’d packed up his life, his ideals, his suit, but he hadn’t realized he’d packed up all the company he’d grown up with and into as well and just hadn’t brought that along. He wasn’t used to a silent home or an empty flat, and he damn sure wasn’t used to the loneliness. But Lana didn’t know he’d been around before he settled in Metropolis, sort of a trial-by-fire gap year. He’d sort of had to adapt. It would never be the same, but it had gotten easier. And she was here now. It didn’t feel lonely.

“Seriously, though. You’re not here enough? Are you getting enough sleep?” Her gaze turned to him. Hands on hips. His shoulders went up automatically.

“I’ve got a lot to tend to, Lana. It’s almost like living on a farm.” She let out a snort.

“Don’t keel over, Clark, you’re my competition now, stay sharp.”

“How are you doing?”, he posed. Her eyebrows went up. Lana was always so expressive, he’d missed that.

“I’m doing what I love, and what I’ve always known I had to do, and I don’t even have a snotty high school population to be concerned with now.” She frowned. “Now I’ve got a cutthroat corporate nightmare jungle to tango with.”

“If anyone can do it, it’s you, Lana.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and crossed over to face him on the other side of the counter.

“I know it is.” She smiled. “I’m doing fine.”

He briefly registered her thin striped sweater. He didn’t recognize it. Time was, he knew all her clothes and where she got them, which ones she liked and didn’t. It occurred to him that he was still only wearing sweatpants and glasses, but it wasn’t weird. This was Lana. She’d left her bag on his coffee table. She leaned her elbows on the surface and sipped her coffee.

“What are you doing in town?”, he asked.

“Oh, I’m not so far. A train ride away. I wanted to see you. And scope out your place.” She gestured around with her coffee. “Very nice.”

“Thank you,” he responded with a sort of half-sweep of his hands and slight head bow. They really did encourage each other, he wasn’t this animated usually. It was good to remember how he was with his best friend.

They both heard the brittle handle of his door jiggle, but neither of them even had the chance to look over curiously before they also heard the door swing open and tap the wall somewhat aggressively. The voice from the same source was sharp as it called his name and didn’t wait for an answer before pouncing into a tirade of some sort. Two clacks heralded her arrival, and she rounded into sight in another second. Her head whipped around, long, straight black hair desperately flying to keep up, and she caught sight of him.

“Clark! Get your weird brown shoes on, I might have something, and we gotta go so I’ll brief you while y-“

She stopped dead when she realized there was another person present. She blinked, visibly taken aback.

“Good morning, Lois,” he ventured cautiously.  
Lana’s head tilted in interest. “Something you should tend to?”

Oh, of course she’d find this amusing. Clark cocked his eyebrows at her. But he pushed himself off the counter. Lana gave him a disbelieving and intrigued, but still playful look that he ignored. His ears went pink. She was definitely gonna ask about this later. He made his way around the counter and off into his bedroom.

“I’ll go find my weird brown shoes,” he called.

“And a shirt!”, supplied Lana. She got a muffled half-yelped “oh!” from that direction as he realized. Then he realized he hadn’t introduced them, and he almost went out again before he realized that he still wasn’t wearing a shirt. He was a wonder.

He came out straightening his yellow tie, brown shoes and all, and sporting a noticeable blush.

“Oh ho, Mr. Kent!” He looked up at his friend’s teasing voice, but it was doing a good job of coaxing his sheepishness into a grin. “Such a professional figure you cast!”

“Lois, this is Lana, Lana-“

“Lois Lane, I know, I know.” Lana got up from her position at the counter and started collecting her things. “I’ll leave. Think about the cat!”

“I’m not getting a cat.”

“Bye Clark!”

“Call me later, please.”

She shot him a wink, and sent a cheerful nod to Lois, and swept herself and her autumn coloured locks out the door. Clark heard it close. Lois gave him a look that reminded Clark so much of Lana’s a few minutes ago he almost laughed out loud. It was missing its mirth, but if he thought about it, the two women were very alike. Her eyebrows remained raised.

“I didn’t realize you were so popular, Smallville, I would have booked.”

“Lana’s my best friend,” he offered. “Sorry about- she surprised me.”

“Uh huh. Me too.” She led the way out of the apartment, hair waving behind her, and Clark threw his jacket on and grabbed his hat as he left. His phone buzzed. He checked it. A text from Lana. When he opened it, he did laugh out loud. He felt Lois almost jump out of her skin a few steps ahead and look back. It was a meme Lana must’ve had ready to go. It was a screenshot from some superhero movie, with the person in front seeming obliviously content labelled “you” and the person creeping through the crowd looking directing at them through the back labelled “me showing up in metropolis”.

He looked up and realized Lois probably didn’t hear him laugh that often. There were a lot of things he didn’t do around her that flowed right back to him in Lana’s company. Side effect of years of friendship- and, ah, a secret identity. He gave Lois a sheepish smile. Her gaze raked over him, and she paused before she turned away suspiciously. Clark shot Lana back while Lois had her back turned.

_Lol. Made my day_

He watched the dot dot dot appear almost instantly.

_Ya made it more awkwarddd_

He shook his head to himself, but she wasn’t done.

_You are so telling me everything latr_

He gave her one last answer before he shoved it in his pocket.

_All you had to do was ask_

He took it out a second later, sent an emoji, and shoved it back.

😝

Lois tapped her foot as he looked up at her. She gave him an interrogating squint. Oh, boy.


	2. How not to start the day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark is finally a known variable to Lois, for all intents and purposes. She’s got him pegged. She knows what he’s about. So why’s he gotta skip the curve balls and go straight to full 180s?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all ever see Eddie Hall? Look up Eddie Hall. That’s Clark.

A lead.  
  


Lois had a lead.

She could practically smell the story coming together. You’re not supposed to see it like that, stories don’t always pan out, this wasn’t technically her case, it was a Sunday, blah blah blah. But that was shit you told rookies who planned to be a reporter. Lois was a reporter who planned to report. She’d make it come together.  
  


Like it or not, the giant ball and chain named Clark was a part of that now, and she figured if and when Perry blew up at her, having dragged Kent along would help her case.  
  


She had another reason for bringing him with her too, although she was hesitant to give it any merit. She got the vague impression that Clark Kent was extraordinary. Lois had read his writing before he was hired, and it was special. It was so nuanced, in fact, that it might not have been. It was the kind of writing that may have been as upfront and genuine as it seemed, or may be beautifully crafted enough to be more- and she couldn’t tell. Lois was not some amateur. She couldn’t tell- and it bothered her.

If it had as many layers as she thought it might, it was brilliant. If not, it would explain Clark Kent in his entirety.

Kent had been around the world. Not your average gap year in Europe, either- he’d reported on tribal conflict in Rwanda, the resurgence in the Tigre region in Ethiopia, Uighers in China, freedom of the press in Hong Kong, and the rise of authoritarianism in Eastern Europe, to name a few. Lois had been rather excited to meet him. He wasn’t cheap chips, Perry wouldn’t have shoved him on her if he had been. But you don’t just have to be a good reporter to partner Lois Lane, and Perry knew that. So what did Kent have?

The thing is, inspiring as his resume had been, the man behind the writing seemed to be having fun with her. Lois had been sure he would be cheeky, know exactly what he was saying with all those words he used so carefully, just enough to suggest exactly what he meant to and make it all look like a silly man writing down what he saw. But Kent walked into the office, and Lois almost deflated. He looked every bit the stepped on mouse Lois was starting to fear he might actually be. Lois knew people, she read them like articles, but Clark Kent could go either way. He presented completely underwhelming, but she wasn’t sure.

And it bothered her.

So she was going to solve Clark Kent. And to do that, she’d have to watch him in action. Her first priority was the story, but she could bring him along and see how he swam while she was at it. If he could keep up.   
  


This apartment was as underwhelming as the man himself. See, if he WAS worth her attention, why was he trying so hard to hide it, down to his apartment choice? Her theory wasn’t looking good, but she couldn’t help but have a feeling.

She gives the door a couple sharp raps, and as expected, the door’s unlocked. She swings it wide open and marches on in. If he didn’t like it, he should’ve locked it. This wasn’t Smallville.

”Clark! Get your weird brown shoes on, I might have something and we’ve gotta go so I’ll brief you while y-“

The first thing her brain took in was a man with Clark’s face leaning over the kitchen counter, and a woman with bright red hair across from him. She must have had the wrong apartment.

”Good morning, Lois,” the man rumbled.

Oh, okay. That was Clark.

That couldn’t be right.

This man was shirtless. Sure, he was around the same size as Clark, and he had Clark’s face, and those were Clark’s glasses and... oh my god that’s Clark.

What the fuck?!

Clark Kent was massive. Lois had known that, but she’d assumed he just liked his sweets. She’d pegged him for a possible diabetic. This Clark Kent, who she had walked in on across the counter from some woman without a shirt on, was massive- but he was entirely muscle. He was a solid brick shithouse brushing six feet while leaning, which would put him at, like, 6,3 standing. His muscles bulged out like bubbles, the kind of muscle that skipped definition in favour of functionality. There was a difference between muscles that models work out to tone themselves into dorito shapes, and then there were muscles like these. Lois had seen these kind of muscles on the people that broke world records. Christ, he looked like Eddie fucking Hall.

Lois vaguely registered the woman saying something with a teasing lilt to her voice, mostly because the mountain that was Clark gave her an unimpressed look in response.

An _unimpressed look-_ who the fuck was this?!

They had some weird silent exchange that was probably riveting and Clark pushed himself off the counter and lumbered off down a hallway. Lois’ brain was still catching up, so she couldn’t glean his height before he was gone.

”I’ll go find my weird brown shoes,” he called back in Clark’s voice.

”And a shirt!”

Lois was pretty sure she heard him choke in a very Clark-like manner and she realized he’d had no idea until that point that he wasn’t dressed.

”Lois Lane,” the mystery woman pulled herself up and over to her, hand outstretched and eyes assessing. A pair of sunglasses hung from her pocket, and she wore a smart striped sweater that gave her an air of casual competence. Her nails had clearly never seen polish. The amused smirk hadn’t slipped from her face, but Lois didn’t see any malice in it. More like a kitten at play. You never knew though. “In the flesh. About time. I’m Lana Lang.”

Lois shook her hand. She knew the name. Lang was a good reporter, a good writer, but above all, a good researcher.

”I’m a big fan of your work, both professionally and otherwise. Anyone who can get my boy Clark’s attention is worth mine,” she continued breezily.

Lois decided to skip over the professionally-and-otherwise comment, whatever that meant. “I’m afraid our partnership wasn’t up to either of us, it was the boss’ call. Clark’s just following orders.”

Lang hummed as if she’d said something funny. “Oh, you’ve earned his interest since then, Miss Lane.”

Her eyebrows went up. That wasn’t quite the way she’d describe anyone’s opinion of her. Either they were impressed by her work, impressed by her tits, impressed by her attitude, or unimpressed by all three. There was little ambivalence where Lois was concerned.

”So you’re close?”, she pressed, steering the discussion back to her advantage. Obviously, they were close, but that’s not what she was looking for.

”Very. We’ve been inseparable since grade school. Not quite the same dynamic you have with him, though.”

Lois raised an eyebrow despite herself, which pulled a light chuckle out of the redhead.

”He tells me everything,” she said simply. “Every important part of his life, I hear about. And you definitely fit that category, Miss Lane.”

”Lois.”

”Lois,” Lana conceded.

Did she?

”He hasn’t mentioned you. I assume you two are together...?”

Lana let out a short bark of laughter. “No, sister, no way. He’s like my brother. I don’t even live in Metropolis, but I thought I’d stop by and check out his new place, see him. It’s veeeeery different from home.” 

Ah yes, the mythical Smallville. Lois didn’t have a lot of time for territorial gossip, but even she knew it’s reputation. A town of weirdos and cornfields. It fit Clark to a T.

The man himself emerged from his hallway, posture bent in a shadow of his previous stature, blazer once again sitting strangely on his body, suggesting nothing more than a solid build and a hefty beer gut. His face was pink, giant mitts fumbling around his, frankly horrible, canary yellow tie.

”Oh ho, Mr Kent!”, Lana crowed, painting a reluctant smile on the big guy’s awkward face. “Such a professional figure you cast!”

”Lois, this is Lana, Lana-“, he started.

”Lois Lane, I know, I know.” Lana moved easily through the living room, collecting her things as she went. “I’ll leave.”

As she was walking out the door, she called back once more. “Think about the cat!”

”I’m not getting a cat,” Clark replied in a fond tone that guaranteed they’d already had this discussion.

”Bye Clark!”

”Call me later, please.”

With a wink and a bright little nod, Lana was out the door and gone. Lois felt herself turn slowly back to her partner, both eyebrows raised and arms crossed in clear demand of an explanation. Why Kent seemed to find this funny was beyond her, but luckily for his well-being, he kept a lid on it.

”I didn’t realize you were so popular, Smallville, I would have booked.”

He shuffled on his feet, and Lois had no idea how she hadn’t seen it as a mountain moving every time he did that before. “Lana’s my best friend. Sorry about- she surprised me.”

“Uh-huh. Me too.”

She didn’t have time for this. She would allot time to consider it later, but now they had a lead, and it was on the move. She turned on her heels and led the way out of his shabby apartment, deciding that until she could formulate all of this new information into... something, she’d just keep moving.

That would’ve been the end of it, but once again, Kent did something new and alarming. He laughed.

Lois snapped back toward him at once. That was not a Clark Kent noise. But that was just it: she didn’t know Clark Kent, did she? That’s what was bothering her.

She raked her eyes over him, reevaluating. Why was she so sure of the cardboard face he put up, anyway? Sure, it made sense, but all the best lies do. Was she convincing herself he was more than he seemed, or convincing herself that he wasn’t?

She turned her back on him again, head rushing, thoughts swirling. There was potential here. She sincerely doubted he was a simple man either way, but the question was now a matter of intricacy. How deep did Clark Kent go?

It took the guy way too long to realize Lois was holding the door for him and tapping her foot impatiently, eyebrow arched in disbelieving condescension. He was staring at his phone. She couldn’t bring herself to snap at him. She took the time instead to file away every piece of him she can. She tried to mentally take a step back. Consider him all over again. From scratch.

Lois was going to solve Clark Kent. It wouldn’t be bothering her for long. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can pry massive strongman brick shithouse Clark from my cold dead hands

**Author's Note:**

> I love their best friendship and I need more why isn’t there more I’m gonna make more 
> 
> Also I tried so hard to insert the meme I was so proud of it but alas, foiled again
> 
> So you know, my Instagram @itreallyisthequietones usually has art to go with my fics and related memes fresh from the oven


End file.
